Deck the Halls with Boughs of Worry
by Channel D
Summary: Abby is out to overdecorate her lab for Christmas. Her enthusiasm has her cross paths with a disgruntled ensign, and she becomes a hostage. Can the team rescue her? Written for the NFA Secret Santa story exchange. McAbby.
1. Chapter 1

**Deck ****the**** Halls ****with**** Boughs ****of**** Worry  
****by**** channelD**

_Rated:_ T  
_Genre:_ Action/Adventure/Humor  
Written for the NFA Secret Santa story exchange  
_Setting:_ Washington DC, December  
_Featuring:_ Abby and the team  
_Pairing:_ McAbby

**- - - - -**

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing of NCIS. A shame.

- - - - -

**Prologue**

They were all there when Abby entered the squad room that early-December morning: Gibbs. Tony. Tim. Ziva. _Thank God, thank God._ All placid; all in reasonable good humor; and most important, all safe and sound. Matsumura's team was out in the field, apparently, since their desks were vacant. But Gibbs' team was here. She felt her anxiety levels go up any time they went out, and it got worse instead of better with each passing year. She'd never get used to this, never; the more she got to know them, the more she worried.

For now, though, everything was good. She kept her face cheerful as she dropped off for Tony the test results for the cold case he was working on, her excuse for getting out of the lab. She smiled, bantered with him for a moment, and turned to go. Tim's voice, over the soft click of his hanging up his phone, arrested her.

"Uh, boss; we've got a tip of a meth lab run by a couple of Marine reservists in Georgetown."

"It'd have to be classy," said Gibbs, grabbing his NCIS coat. "McGee, gas up the van."

"On it."

"Classy, or funky," said Tony, with a grin. You didn't expect run-of-the-mill crime in a historic place like Georgetown.

Abby kept her face turned away and never hesitated in her calm walk to the elevator. _Watch over them_ was her silent prayer. That was all she could do: pray. It had to be enough, but it wasn't.

**Part**** 1**

**Christmas** was in the air at NCIS—in some places, anyway. In the squad room, a rather worn artificial tree glowed benignly in a corner. It had a jumble of lights of all colors, shapes, and rate of blink, and was adorned with glass balls, often scratched so the plain silver below shown through; a real bird's nest; a _Washington Senators_ autographed baseball; and a hodgepodge of homemade castoffs; all loved by the special agents for the ornaments' years of service to the agency. On the balcony to the upper floor was another tree, MTAC's, decorated tastefully in blue and silver fabric balls, silver ribbons flowing from the tree crown like water, and blue lights. Most of the agents derided it as being too _frou-frou_, and preferred their own tree. That, plus a wreath (artificial) on the door to the Director's office, and some holly (artificial) with a menorah at the building entrance, was pretty much the visible extent of the season's festivity.

There were smaller manifestations, to be sure. Tony kept a stack of candy canes in a jar on his desk, free for the taking. Ziva's desk had a snow figurine family; Snow Father, Snow Mother, and Gender-Unrevealed Snow Toddler. "You'll warp that child for all of its snow existence," Tony kept telling her, "if you don't let it figure out its snow identity." She pretended not to hear this, and cooed to the child whenever Tony was around, just to drive him crazy.

Tim had a red poinsettia on his desk…sedate and tasteful. "You are corrupted by MTAC," Ziva accused. "You should go wild more often." Tim only shrugged; he _liked_ poinsettias, and didn't consider himself wild by any measure.

Gibbs...now, Gibbs did no decorating of his own—not that anyone would expect him to. So, naturally, his team helped him out, whether he wanted it or not. One day there would be a life-size Grinch stand-up figure behind his chair. The next, an Ebenezer Scrooge. Tony had to go farther afield to get stand-ups of Mr. Potter and Uncle Billy from _I__t's a Wonderful Life_but you can find almost anything in Washington if you know where to look. Gibbs ignored the desk companions, which made things all the funnier when his expression would happen to match theirs.

But let's look in on Abby; a woman who believes that _excess_ and _Xmas_ are cousins, in the nicest way.

Now only eleven days remained before her favorite holiday took center stage. With no one around to see her that morning (yet), Abby felt free to spend a few minutes decorating her lab for Christmas.

A few minutes? Well, judge for yourself…

Strings of fairy lights were draped everywhere, all solid color strings: red, green, yellow, blue, purple and more. Herds of tiny plastic reindeer wandered over and around the equipment, some looking curiously into the depths of containers. In one flask, currently unused but 2/3rds full of water, a reindeer floated upside down while a companion looked down over the brim at him sadly. Christmas was as deserving of a little warped humor as any other holiday, Abby reckoned. Clear glass flasks and vials had been wrapped in red or green cellophane, holly rose up table legs, and mistletoe sprigs, forbidden to be hung due to those pesky sexual harassment regulations, lurked in drawers, waiting to be called into spur-of-the-moment-hold-up-over-one's-head use…which she hoped would happen at least a couple times; interested parties to be named later.

She wore a long-sleeved tee showing a red-nosed skull wearing reindeer antlers, and she danced to music while she decorated. This was an old song from Eartha Kitt, a new favorite.

_Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree  
__For me.  
__been__ an awful good girl, __Santa baby,  
so hurry down the chimney tonight.  
_

_Santa baby, a __'__54 convertible too  
__Light blue.  
__I'll wait up for you dear, Santa baby.  
__so hurry down the chimney tonight__…_

How Abby loved Christmas!

_"__Abbs__…"_

She turned at the growl. "Gibbs! I was just going over the Roarke samples, and…" Too late she realized she still had clumps of tinsel in her hands and was standing before a half-tinsel-covered coat rack. "Um…" she put her hands behind her back and grinned hugely. "Got all your Christmas shopping done yet?"

"Don't be evasive. I need results by noon, Abby." He turned to walk out, then turned back and handed her a _Caf-Pow_ with a slight smile. The cup was decorated in red and green-dressed elves, and bore the message_: Giv__e someone you love the __Caf-Pow__l__ifetime__ subscription! 100 gallons a month!_ Ohhhh, if only…!

Was it her fault if some of the others had a hard time getting in the Christmas spirit? Just wait until she was done decorating, and then they'd come around.

**Part**** 2**

It was a long trek from the Navy Yard to the Bankers Pride shopping mall on E Street SW, but Ensign Perry P. O'Brien III didn't mind the walk. Not much different than walking the long deck of a ship at sea, several times. Except that there weren't stoplights, panhandlers, or people walking dogs on a ship. Still, the weather was fine; slightly above freezing, and sunny and calm. Not as fine weather as in his native Mississippi, but it would do for the moment, if he was truly stuck here for Christmas. And it helped to walk off some of that black anger that had engulfed him for the last week.

There'd still be time to send gifts off to Mama and Daddy; to Cindy; to Deanna; to Heather and Lance and their kids; to Gran and Uncle Winslow and Great-Auntie Sheila and…well, everyone. But it wasn't the same as being able to deliver them in person. This would be his first Christmas away from home, and although he was 22, at times he wanted to bawl like a frustrated seven-year-old.

_I'm a grown man, and a college grad. I shouldn't let this get to me. But it just seems so unfair. Doggone that__ CO; __won't__ give me the leave time so I could go home for Christmas__ this year. I've never, ever, spent Christmas away from the family…_

He saw a Salvation Army kettle ahead on a street corner; its attendant's floppy Santa hat bobbing as he rang his bell rhythmically. _Give…give…give…_the thin-faced man's gentle look seemed to say with the ringing. O'Brien saw people passing without meeting the attendant's eyes; a few, though, stopped, smiled, and dropped in coins or a bill. But O'Brien had no time for this, and hustled on. He had to be back at the base in four hours, and that didn't give him much time to shop.

With the Roarke case samples being analyzed to all extremes by her equipment, Abby made another pass at decorating. Tiny glass ornaments…where could they best go? She snapped her fingers and tied the balls with wire, making long ropes circling the various screens like large light bulbs around a make-up mirror. Her collection of over 200 tiny Santa Clauses…those she put in a line, single-file, that wound around equipment before disappearing into the hole in the wall that Maintenance had never gotten around to fixing.

"Impressive!" said Tony, startling her. "Death March of the Santas? Where do they wind up when they go into the hole in the wall? The great beyond?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "None of them have ever come back to say. What can I do for you, Tony? Would you like a cotton candy candy cane, oh candy cane man?"

It sounded unappetizing, and he looked at it with trepidation. _His_ canes were classic peppermint. "Ah, maybe later. You might put it to better use in decorating."

"Hey, good idea!"

"Anyway," he said, looking again at the cheerful Santas heading off to their fate with courage, "Gibbs has been called to a meeting in MTAC. He asked me to come down and get the Roarke results."

"But surely it isn't noon already? It's…oh. 12:50. Um…"

"You've gotta give me something for him, Abbs. He won't harm you because he likes you, but he'll definitely kill the messenger!"

"Um…how much longer is his meeting in MTAC?"

_"__Abbs__!"_

"Okay, okay." She turned to her equipment, _her_ team. _Help me out here, gang…_ Obligingly, one of the machines beeped just then, and she rushed to it. "Tell Gibbs the test for alkaline metals was positive. If I dissolve it in liquid ammonia, it'll turn blue, and—"

"—you'll find a way to use it as a decoration here."

"Well, I could, I suppose, but—_no!_ Tony, take me seriously, would you? I'm really a serious person!"

He looked at her, framed against a shelving unit alive with disgruntled-looking snowmen in the nooks and crannies, some poised reaching out to take a twig-armed swipe at passersby. "Of course you are. Don't worry; I'll tell Gibbs you're, uh, dissolving the metals and will have a complete report shortly."

"By six, for sure! But right now, I'm going to lunch." She grabbed her coat and ran up the stairs, being too impatient to wait for the elevator. A dash up to the Navy Yard gate and into a taxi at the taxi stand. "E Street SW," she told the driver. "The Bankers Pride mall. And please hurry." If she was to get more decorations for her lab, her lunch hour was not a very long time to do it in.

Ensign O'Brien frowned as he considered the items in the mall. The product quality was good, quite good, really; but the _prices_! He had only $340 to spend on presents for the family; and that included the shipping charges. _Sure takes away from the spirit of Christmas…_

He considered his options, as his Navy training often had him do: 1) Go some place less expensive. But he didn't have time to do that; not today. If he put it off until his next leave day, packages wouldn't get there before Christmas. 2) Shop online. But he'd never done that before; would he have to establish an account and credit first? He didn't know. All of his online venturing had been to sports, games, and poker sites. Shopping was something girls did; not guys.

No, he had to get his shopping done _here_ and _now_.

Unless he could somehow convince his CO to give him the time off to make it back to Mississippi…


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 3**

Gibbs settled into his desk; McDonalds burgers and coffee in hand. Lord knows after some of these MTAC meetings he'd like to bite into _someone's_ flesh. Too bad he could only take it out on a cow. "DiNozzo!" he barked. "Did you get Abby's reports?"

"She's working on it, boss," Tony hedged. "She went out to lunch a few minutes ago." Even a bigger hedge, but he was inclined to help out a friend. "She did say that the test for alkaline metals was positive." He remembered that much, and hoped Gibbs wouldn't ask for more. Science was not his strong suit. It wasn't Gibbs' either, fortunately. Unfortunately, they weren't alone in the squad room…

"Now which test was that, Tony?" Tim asked with feigned innocence. "Was it the test of the cesium or the rubidium dissolving in water?"

"The second one," Tony said, fighting to keep the growl out of his voice. "I'm sure of that. It turned the water blue." Of course, he wasn't sure, but McGee didn't have to know that. _Showoff…_ _Darn, he's laughing. I said something wrong._ To Gibbs he said, "She said she'd have the final report done by six."

Gibbs looked as exasperated as Scrooge behind him, but didn't get a chance to say what he thought, for Ziva broke into the conversation as she hung up her phone. "An ensign has gone AWOL from the base. His mates claim he was angry, and threatening to shoot someone."

Gibbs' eyebrows rose to new heights. "And why didn't they grab him then?"

"They didn't take him seriously, until he phoned in and said he wasn't reporting for his shift this afternoon. He was phoning from the Bankers Pride Mall."

"Let's go!" Gibbs responded. They pulled their gear together as Tim pulled up the ensign's ID from the database. "No one wants a shooting for Christmas."

"What's this about…cesium and rubidium and water?" Tony asked Ziva in a low tone, out of Tim's earshot.

"They go boom," she said simply. "In a most impressive way."

"I don't know," he said casually. "I don't impress that easily."

"You would be, if you saw it."

Abby had done all her Christmas shopping weeks ago—the giving of gifts thrilled her so much that she could barely wait until June1, which was when she let herself start shopping for Christmas. She had everything wrapped and tucked away in a cupboard by November 1. That left her nearly two full months to relax, decorate, listen to funky Christmas tunes, and eat cookies and drink eggnog. Not a bad way to end the year.

This year she was determined to outdo herself in decorating the lab. The Pop Pop Christmas store at the mall would be sure to have acquired something new and outrageous in the three weeks since she'd last been there.

She stood outside the little store, gazing in the windows. _A train! I haven't had a train set in the lab since…not ever! It's perfect!_ If she got time, she could paint silver bells and silver skulls on all the cars. Yes, that would Christmas-y it up. Her mind made up, she entered the quiet little store.

"Excuse me, Mr. Pop Pop!" (everyone called the store owner that) She waved excitedly to catch his attention. "Excuse me. Hi! I'm Abby Sciuto; remember me? I come here like, once a month, year round?"

But he was pointedly ignoring her, a grim look on his face as he dealt with a customer.

"Mr. Pop Pop? When you have a minute, I'd like to see the train in your window. I think it would be wonderful in my lab, and…"

Her chattering stopped when the customer, a Navy ensign, turned toward her, a gun in each hand. "You," he said. "talk too much. I don't like that."

"Sorry. I'm sorry," said Abby over the pounding of her heart. "I can just leave." _And call for help. Poor Mr. Pop __Pop_

"Nobody leaves until I've done what I have to do," said the ensign. Abby saw then that three people were seated on the floor by the gunman; two teenaged girls, and an old man. All looked frightened. She also noticed then, seeing the OPEN sign hanging on this side of the closed shop door, that she had barged into a closed, if unlocked, shop.

Abby forced some strength into her voice. "And what is it you have to do?"

"I'm going to right some wrongs done to me, here at Christmastime. They won't give me what I want the normal way, so I'm going to go out in style, if I have to. Got plenty of ammo, and I'm good with firearms. And now, with you, I have five hostages."

The teenaged girls cried, and Mr. Pop Pop and the older man looked sad. _This is truly a pickle_, Abby thought.

**Part 4**

The local police were waiting for Gibbs and his team when they entered the mall. "We'd been watching him," said the police captain. "We're an upscale mall, you know, and while…"

"While you wouldn't call it _profiling_, you still follow any low-ranking military guy who comes in here because they probably don't have a lot of money," Gibbs said sarcastically.

The chief blushed. "Well, anyway, he looked a little shifty. Thought he might do some shoplifting. He's down there at the last store on the left, Pop Pop Christmas. Someone saw that he had a gun, and beat the heck out of there and called us. I think he's aiming for armed robbery, and we were about to go in, until someone said _you_ people had _jurisdiction_…" He spat out the last word.

"That happens, when the Navy's involved," Tony said with a fake smile.

"Is this the guy?" Tim asked, pulling out a print made from his computer.

"Yep, that's him," said the Captain. "He's been in there for over half an hour now. We've cleared out this entire wing of the mall, as a precaution. I think we got everyone out before any more customers could enter the Pop Pop Christmas shop."

" 'Before any more'?" Gibbs glared. "Where are these customers now?"

A deputy ran up to them. "Chief, Drake was able to hack into the shop's security cameras and transmitted it to my phone. Take a look—he's got hostages."

Gibbs and the team pushed forward to see. Tony noticed it first. "Abby!" he said, shocked. "Boss, he's got _Abby_!"

Abby looked into the cold, hardened eyes of the ensign, and felt more afraid than she could ever remember being. It didn't take the special agent's training (which she didn't have) to know that this was a man who didn't fear death, and wasn't bothered by the thought of taking others into death with him. She felt only compassion for her fellow hostages: the two weeping girls, probably BFFs, no more than 14 or 15 years old; the old man…shopping for gifts for his grandchildren, perhaps; and dear sweet, melancholic Mr. Pop Pop himself. _What a horrible fate…_

_I don't see any way out of this…unless the local cops have a talented SWAT team…'cause sooner or later someone's going to notice that something's wrong in here and will try to mount a rescue…I should be optimistic…_

But she wasn't. She was too scared.

The ensign seemed to consider all of them harmless, and hadn't frisked them or done anything to them, other than ordering all of them to stay seated on the floor. Then the shop phone rang. Mr. Pop Pop only looked more pained as it continued to ring. Finally the ensign set down one of his guns, out of reach, and picked up the phone's receiver.

"Yeah. Yeah, you got 'im…No, no one's hurt, yet. What do I want? I want to cause a whole lotta hurt. And I'm going to. You wait and see. Because it's Christmas, that's why, and I'm stuck in crappy Washington, when I'd rather be with my girl and my folks in Tennessee, that's why. And you talk too much. _Goodbye_!" He slammed down the receiver, but the phone rang again, immediately. Two shots from his gun, and the phone blew into plastic pieces as the girls screamed and the other two men shook.

Abby forced her heart rate to slow down. _This guy's __nutzo!__ Anything could set him off. This isn't going to end well._

A note. If she wasn't ever going to see her dear friends again, she wanted to leave some communication for them, or at least one of them. How much could she write in the time she had remaining? A note could be tucked deep in her pocket, not found until her autopsy was done…From a small notebook she quietly pulled out a perforated page, and with the only pen she had with her—her holiday-favorite color-changing red and green ink pen—she started writing. _Dearest Timmy…_

- - - - -

_To be concluded..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 5**

Ensign O'Brien had been studying the map of the mall when the crowd came toward him, shoppers with enough anger to wage a war.

"Why, I've never been treated so rudely! I've patronized that fur shop since the mall opened!"  
"Frank, we might as well go. There's a sports shop in the other mall; we can get your father golf clubs there."  
"I have the ears of several Congressmen, and they shall be hearing from me!"  
"Why is this wing closed, Daddy? Someone said a wild animal is loose?"  
"No, son; just a couple of jackasses."

His curiosity had the better of him, and he inched along the sidelines, going against the flow, wanting to help if he could.

_NCIS!_ This must be a crime scene!

They spotted him immediately. A military uniform tended to make one stand out. "Hey! Ensign! Hold it right there!" And suddenly guns were pointed at him. He raised his arms in surrender, wondering how it was that things kept going wrong for him. Two agents, a man and a woman, approached him cautiously, then handcuffed him, patted him down, and brought him back to the others.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs," said the silver-haired one, giving him an icy stare. "Who are you? You connected with that nut in there?"

"Ensign Perry P. O'Brien III, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"There's an ensign inside the Pop Pop Christmas shop who's holding five people hostage," said one of the other agents. "I don't believe in coincidences, much. What are the odds that two underpaid ensigns are at the same upscale mall at the same time, when one of them has threatened to kill five innocent people? One of whom is a co-worker and friend of ours!"

"Sorry. Who is the ensign? Is he stationed here? I may know him."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows as he exchanged glances with the other agents. "Name's Bret Cuffey. Do you know him; know what's eating him?"

"Cuffey! Yes, I know him. He's tightly wound. The smallest thing sets him off. A week ago some of us…the boot ensigns, the new guys and girls…learned that we couldn't take leave for Christmas, as had been previously scheduled. Something to do with 'unforeseen personnel needs'. We all took it hard, but Cuffey took it the worst. He was going to propose to his girl back home over Christmas; he'd planned it for the last six months…"

"McGee. Find out who the girlfriend is; get her on the phone."

"On it."

"Gibbs, I have done hostage situations before; I can—" said the woman agent.

"Not when it's been Abby's life at stake," Gibbs cut her off. "Di Nozzo—"

"Got the floor plans of the shop, boss. Front entrance in clear view; there's a back exit used by the shop keeper as his own entrance, for deliveries, etc."

"Does the back exit go to the outside?"

"Not directly. There's a service corridor; about 50 feet one way to an outside exit and 100 or so feet the other way to a mall exit. The mall exit's closest to us."

"Boss, the girlfriend's not home. And, uh, maybe some bad news…"

"Spit it out, McGee!"

"Uh, her mother answered, all excited, thought I was 'Stevie'."

" 'Stevie'??"

"Uh, I gathered that that's her daughter's new boyfriend."

They all winced. "Ensign Cuffey will not like to hear that," said the woman agent.

"And that will give him even less to live for," Gibbs sighed. "So having Cuffey talk to her is out."

An idea hit O'Brien. "Let me try, sir. Cuffey knows me. I think he'll listen to me."

"You can't go in there, O'Brien. That would just give him another hostage."

"No, I meant I could talk to him on the phone."

"He shot up the store phone a little while ago."

"But I have his cell phone number. As I said, I know him. We're stationed together."

- - - - -

"Cuffey! It's O'Brien. How ya doin', man?"

Gibbs' team leaned close to hear. "I'm plenty mad, man. That's how I am."

"Yeah, some of the guys said you made some threats. Said you were going to hurt people."

"That's the size of it, yeah."

"Cuffey, it's Christmas! Why would you want to hurt someone anytime, but particularly at Christmas? Tell me why."

" 'Cause they won't give us the leave at Christmas, man. You know that; and you're mad, too. You said so just yesterday!"

"Mad, yes. But I don't want to hurt anyone over it! Cuffey, is this how you want to remember Christmas next year? A time when you hurt so many people?"

"Won't be a next year for me, Perry-boy. I'm taking myself out."

"Then is this how you want your family to remember you? And your girl, too? Is this the Christmas memory that you want to haunt your parents all the way to their graves?...Cuffey, I'm outside the shop you're in now. I know you've got hostages in there. Let them go, Cuffey. They never did anything to you. Let them go, and you and I can talk some more." He could see that they'd been joined by more federal agents, these from the department of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. Those agents, and Gibbs team (except for Gibbs) split off and headed for the corridor behind the shop. "Cuffey?"

In the shop, Abby, listening, held her breath. This might, just might, turn around after all. In joy she felt the note in her pocket; started to take it out, then thought better of it and merely wadded it. She'd shred it later, back at NCIS.

"Yeah, I'm here…I gotta admit, you make sense, O'Brien. I don't really want to die. Or to kill anyone."

"That's really good to hear," he could hear one of the NCIS agents say. "Put the gun, down, now, and kick it over to me." And as quickly as that, it was over.

As the two nearly hysterical teenagers were delivered to their waiting, frantic parents; and ditto for the older man and Mr. Pop Pop and their wives; Abby sprang forward when the door opened and leaped into Gibbs' arms, crying and saying his name over and over. Maybe that was why he'd held back; so he'd be in position when she was freed. It didn't matter.

Tim, in crime-scene gloves, was bagging evidence in the shop along with Ziva, while Tony and one of the ATF agents took photos. A piece of wadded-up paper caught his eye, and he picked it up. Red and green ink, and Abby's writing…and it was addressed to him! She must have dropped it. He turned his back to the others and read it quickly.

_Dearest Timmy,_

_If you're reading this, it's because I didn't make it to Christmas. But you know that. I'm in a bad situation at the moment, and it doesn't look like there's any way out._

_And I thought of all the things I didn't follow through on, and all the things I never got around to doing. I think the thing I most regret was not trying a relationship again with you. I know you wanted it, but I wasn't ready at the time. I was scared; too scared to be tied down, I guess. And I see now I was wrong to be scared. There are a lot of things that scare me, but accepting someone's freely, unselfishly given love should not be one of them. I wish I could do it all over again, Timmy. I would handle it differently._

_I love you, Timmy._

_Abby_

He closed the paper gently in his hand, and put it into his wallet, where it would be safe. Would her feelings follow through, now that she was safe? Or would she pretend that the paper didn't exist? He certainly wasn't going to bring the subject up. Waiting seemed like the best option.

**Part 6**

Ensign O'Brien walked back to base; a note from Gibbs in his hand to the CO, confirmed by a phone call, should keep him out of trouble. His shopping wasn't quite done yet; in fact, he'd only gotten gifts for his niece and nephew, but he had new plans. Christmas wasn't really about gifts or even face-to-face encounters. He saw now that it was about goodwill and helping others and a lot of other nice intangibles. Cuffey would do prison time, of course, but he'd probably shape up while in there. O'Brien felt as joyous as everyone else when the five hostages, all strangers to him, were released.

_Here I'd been moaning about not being home for a particular day. So what? There's still the phone and email; and I can probably go see them in the spring. Spring is always gorgeous in Mississippi. I can last until then._

He passed the same Salvation Army kettle, with the same thing-faced man ringing his Salvation Army bell. With a big smile, O'Brien stuffed into the kettle's hole his remaining $298.72. "Merry Christmas," he said, shaking the now pop-eyed man's hand. "Merry Christmas. You people do such good work. Keep it up!"

His family wouldn't mind not getting gifts when he explained, he knew. They'd been saying something like this for years, but he'd never believed it. Now he did. And their preacher , the funny old preacher, said the same thing. What a wise old fellow that preacher was.

And that man Gibbs! What did he say…?

_"You a college grad, O'Brien?"_

_"Oh, yes sir! __From Ole Miss, sir.__ The greatest university there is!"_

_"Good," Gibbs __had __said, smiling. "When your term is up with the Navy, consider coming to NCIS. We could use a good man like you."_

A career as a federal agent! That might be something! Something to think about…

**Part 7**

"Let me see if I understand you, Abby," Jenny said a short time later, in her office. "You want tomorrow off. But you want to spend it here. Decorating your lab."

"Yes, that's right," Abby said, trying to tamp down her enthusiasm. Maybe it was better that the Director didn't see her decorations.

"Well, I can't approve or disapprove leave based on why you want it. That's really none of my business. If you have the leave, and it won't hurt the agency to let you have the time off, I have to let you have it. I just think that after your ordeal today, you'd want time off to, well, catch your breath."

"Yes! But this is how I want to do it."

"Very well. But I'm giving you admin leave; you needn't use your annual leave for this. You do have to stick around for a counselor to debrief you, though. Mr. Hilch will be here around 5."

"That's fine. Thank you, Director!" Abby ran out, all smiles.

- - - - -

Tim found Abby in her lab a little while later, spraying fake snow on the brick archways over the plastic strings of "icicles" she'd hung up. "Wow!" he said, not sure if he was appalled or delighted by this homage to all things Christmas. Things glittered, blinked, chirped, and sang. "Does Santa Claus know that you've copied his workshop?"

"No, and I didn't want to call him. He never comes to the phone at this time of year. I wonder why? What's up, Tim?"

_Tim, not Timmy.__ Ah, there's my answer. Well, things can always change. _"Tony just said you had quite a set-up here; said I should see it."

"Do you like it?" she beamed.

"Of course I do," he said, without thinking. Usually he thought before he spoke, but he was feeling a little reckless. "Taken as a whole, it's a little…daunting. But in the sense of taking a museum as a whole is daunting," he said quickly. "If you look at the individual groups here, like, uh, the Santas or the reindeer, it's funny and wonderful. Great job, Abby!"

"Thanks, Tim," she murmured and hugged him tightly, not letting him go. He smiled over her shoulder.

"But I have to ask, Abby…why? It's magnificent. But why do you go to all this trouble? So few people ever come down here. You should take a job designing store windows for Macy's," he joked.

She grew serious, and pulled back a little to see his face. Her green eyes were large. "I love Christmas, Tim; you know that. Christmas is special; wonderful and magical. And…and…a couple of years ago, I started decorating the lab because…"

He lifted her chin gently with two fingers, smiling, bidding her to go on. She swallowed, not sure how he'd react to what she had to say.

"…because I thought if I honored Christmas all the more, it would somehow magically protect you guys when you're out in the field. I say a prayer every time you have to leave here. And I thought this was increasing that prayer a hundred fold."

"You did this all…for us? For Tony and Ziva and Gibbs and me?"

She nodded, blushing. "Yes. Because I love you all. Because I…love…_you_…"

And she couldn't finish the thought, because Timmy, her Timmy, was kissing her so much she was sure Santa had brought him down the chimney and put him under her tree. _Nothing wrong with an early Christmas present!_ she thought, kissing him back.

- END -


End file.
